|Bit of photography frum Yorkshire. ^^|
suitably warmCoffee. Iced coffee. Iced coffee is my favourite type of coffee. I don’t normally like normal coffee, because the heat of it detracts from the taste. When you take a gulp of normal coffee— well, I say gulp, but in actuality you have to take quick sharp sips, because it’s too hot to gulp, really. But when you take a gulp of normal coffee, you can’t enjoy it, because all the little coffee molecules rumble down your throat like little bubbling bumble bees. The heat makes the particles excited, and they rush around in great surges of energy. They walk into each other and drop what they’re carrying. “Sorry, my fault, sorry”. Funny. They all have places to go, though they all go through the same place. Iced coffee’s not like that, I find. Iced Coffee shakes your hand like the true gentleman he is: a soft, firm handshake, like the bygone gentlemen of ancient times. He hushes you. Tells you to relax. You drink him down, a long slow tremor;
Why the Northumbrian Burrs his 'R'sThe first split can be traced, roughly, back to a Frenchman almost six hundred years ago.Why the Northumbrian Burrs his 'R's by Greygreenwolf
As you’ll have all learnt in school, 1066 heralded the invasion of our island by William the Conqueror. Many take issue with the name and prefer to call him William the Bastard, but I believe that that decision is really dependent on your own digression.
When he did lead the army over, he faced fierce opposition, not least from the Northumbrians themselves. In fact, he fought and subdued the worst rebellion (or, the one with the most chance of succeeding) against his reign with the fierce fighting men of the North. Well, subdued perhaps isn’t the word- genocide is. Either way, rather than leaving the native Thanes in charge and risking another war that he would undoubtedly lose, he appointed his own soldiers to become nobles and rule over the conquered. It’s the descendent of one of these men that must really start this story.
The Lord of Northumberland was vexed. Every day he wo
Just sae storiesI have often heard tell in my life that the working class accent of a nation is its language in its lowest form.Just sae stories by Greygreenwolf
They argue that the rolls of vowels, clipped consonants and all the local words that weave into a tapestry of language going back to ancient times is holding people back; that it makes a mockery of a national institution.
For a long while, my life has not been fixed. I move from place to place, seeking shelter wherever kind people will give it. And, in all my wanderings, I've never seen anything, nor tasted anything, nor smelt anything, nor touched or felt anything better than the sound of an accent. It tells a story in its own right and, as a story teller, I feel that the achievement deserves merit.
There are areas in the country where, it's said, you can navigate by the way people speak. I believe this to be correct. As you wind your way through the valley's and hills and towns, there are still places where each community speaks differently. The loss of his is,
A flag of Green, White and Tan, Chapter 21909A flag of Green, White and Tan, Chapter 2 by Greygreenwolf
Kitty had always been brought up to believe that grumbling was somewhat useless. Nothing was actually changed whenever she tried it; her father would always laugh at her pleas, ruffle her hair, and then tell her good-naturedly to shut up.
There were times, however, when she wished it would have an effect. For example, whenever she was about to go off on an adventure with her best friend, and an adult intervened to make sure someone else was with them.
Today was one of those days.
"I don’t see why Liam has to come along with us, Da," Kitty said, a hint of pleading in her voice, "Me and Sean can get old Tyrant from O’Brian’s easy."
Her father took a clay pipe out of his mouth, blowing out a stream of smoke. Flynn O'Connor was a small man, barely topping five feet and going bald on top. "Because, mo seanchaí,” he said softly, a wicked smile going across his face, “I saw you and Sean at the market, and I'm not having any daughter of mine run
Welcome to my page. I hope that you won't be too disturbed by what you see here, but if you are here, it's highly possible that it's already affected you. Sorry 'bout that. |
From Co. Durham, which is in England, not Ireland. Please don't get it mixed up. Tend to get a little ranty. Ditto if you assume Scottish.
As for mediums, I don't stick to anything, really. This that and t'other, as we would say.
All that needs to be said here is said...
If you're visiting my page about this message:
Just wanted to wish you a good day.
(Found via random Deviant generator)
I mean exactly what I say on the tin. I would like to wish you a good day, and you were found at random. Because everyone needs a little pick me up every now and again, right?